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User blog:SirLinkalot96/The Greg Ryder Saga: Part 2: Chapter 8: Training Day With Jason
"Greg! Get cho' lazy ass up!" A voice shouted in my ear. I refused to get out of bed. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I started jumping around like my clothes were on fire. I clutched my right ear and looked up at who did it. It was Jason in a tracksuit and sunglasses. He had a foghorn in his right hand so he must have been the one who brutally woke me up. "Get dressed, I have you excused out of class today so we could train!" I got dressed into some black and white track pants and a white t-shirt. I put on my Nike Airs and put on my bear teeth necklace and walked outside the dorm with Jason. "So we need to get to the training facility in the office." Jason was telling me, "Let's jog there!" Jason started jogging and so did I. I was keeping good pace and trying not to push myself too hard. When we got to the office Jason took me to the back room and it was a training gym! It had dumbells, treadmills, weights, pull up bars, you name it. They had it. "Okay, how much do you weigh?" Jason questioned me. I said, "123 pounds, why?" Jason looked away, "Oh, I was seeing how much you weigh and depending how much you weigh you can see how much iron you'll be able to lift. Get it? Got it? Doubt it." Jason explained, "Try lifting 30 pounds. Might be appropriate for your age." I lifted up some weights and started doing some squats and dead lifts. . . "All right. That part of the training is over. Now we need to teach you how to break into and hot wire a car." Jason said. My eyes widened with excitement. I've stolen a car before but I never hotwired it, I just stole the keys and crashed it into a lake. It was my 6th grade science teacher's car. Jason led me to a garage on the side of the office. There was a nice yellow Patriot car in the garage. "Okay so here's what you do. You take a clothes hanger, and you try to shimmy the hanger around in the crack of the window to find the lock and open it." Jason took a coat hanger and moved it around and the lock opened. "Now, you go under the car, and open the little compartment. And you should see some wires. Spark the red and blue wires together to start up the engine." Jason went under the steering wheel and took the blue and red wires and sparked them together till the car turned on. "Now you try." Jason shut off the car and locked the door. I took the coat hanger and shimmied it around to pick the lock. It took a couple minutes but I got the door open. Now I go under the steering wheel and spark the red and blue wires together. I opened the little compartment and sparked the blue and red wires together and the car started. I felt proud of myself. "Good job, kid. Now we're gonna learn how to fire a gun properly. . . Jason walked me to a shooting range and gave me my father's pistol. "I took this from under your mattress before we left the dorm." Jason said as he handed me the gun. A paper target popped up, I shot and missed. "Kid, keep your back straight. And really concentrate, too." I straighted my back and took a deep breath before I pulled the trigger. I got the paper target in the upper chest and the head. I kept shooting and practicing with Jason for a bit. . . "Okay, you're pretty physically fit, and from what I've heard is that you're a good fighter. So I want you to spar with me." Jason said. I put up my fists and was pretty confident that I could take him. I threw a punch at him and he caught it in mid air and I didn't know what happened after that because the next thing I knew I was sprawled out on the mat. I think he must have flipped me over or something. "Come on, Greg. You can do better than that!" Jason taunted jokingly. I got up and he tried to roundhouse kick me. I caught it and laughed, "HA!" Then he did like a spinned around in midair and his shoe hit me on the side of the head. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The sole of his shoe hit me in the side of my head. I saw blood fly from my mouth as I was falling to the ground. When I hit the ground, everything went black. . . . . Category:Blog posts